


Honey Glazed Roses

by sychiitea



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Dream is just, Dream the tea kettle, Fluff and Angst, Hanahaki Disease, I'm Sorry, I'm trying, M/M, Major Character Injury, Modern Era, Oblivious, Oblivious GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Sleepy Cuddles, Slow Burn, Soft Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Unrequited Love, deflatable lungs, don't read these past here bc spoilers ahahaha, don't worry i'll try not to kill them... hopefully :), gay for one person yknow, gogy is a fool but i love him, he is s t r u g g l i n g, i could punt him into the sun, i hope so, no beta we die like men, ok but like they're not really unrequited it's just that they're dumb, sapnap is that friend who knows everything but won't say bc he wants to watch the world burn, soft kisses maybe ??, where's everyone else?, why are they so stupid help
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:27:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28225347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sychiitea/pseuds/sychiitea
Summary: “Some people are worth waiting for”“And him?”“He’s worth waiting an eternity”------------------------------Hanahaki AU with two absolute fools because you guys have no idea how much I love the best friends who don't realize they have feelings for each other trope.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	Honey Glazed Roses

“I hate you”

George glared at the blinking green circle on his second screen, beating in time to his best friend’s wheezing, light laughter. He had just lost yet another round of speedrunner vs hunter, this time to a trip into a lava pool. He sighs in defeat, powering off the monitor displaying the death screen. 

“I- You-,” Dream gasped for breath, interrupting his sentence with another bout of wheezes. “I DESTROYED you that round! What was that trick you tried to pull?”

“I was heading towards a block to water bucket on, but you rudely pushed me off!” George whined. He pushed his chair away from the desk and made his way into the kitchen, leaving Dream the tea kettle to his slowly deflating lungs. In truth, George was distracted by another bout of coughing, the second that day. He barely managed to mute the call before dissolving into a fit, and covered his momentary absence by blaming it on concentration. Dream likely didn’t buy his excuse, but he didn’t push it either. 

He had just managed to reach the countertop when another tickle rose in his throat, biting and scratching at the inside of his mouth, until he hacked up what appeared to be-  
“Blood?” George wiped at the corners of his lips, worriedly flipping through his mental catalog of possible causes. He didn’t feel sick, he knew he wasn’t internally bleeding, and the humidity of his apartment was moderate. George did feel a bit of a heaviness in his lungs, but nothing a cup of tea and an air purifier couldn’t fix. 

“Ah- George? You still there?” Dream’s tinny voice called out, prompting George to snap back to reality.  
“Yeah, yeah - sorry just went to the kitchen to get some water” George flopped back into his chair, suddenly aware of the thickening silence between them. He realized, not a moment too late, that Dream was waiting for some form of implied reassurance that he hadn’t gone too far in making fun of George’s loss.  
“Pfft, I’m not mad, if that’s what you’re thinking,” George snorted lightly, shaking his head at how quickly the mood perked up in Dream’s tiny sigh of relief. He was practically a human-sized puppy. It wasn’t until Dream had cleared his throat and indicated his willingness to leave did George snap back into the call and exchange farewells - a fond goodnight from George, a well-wishing on the rest of his day from Dream. They ended the call, and George slumped back in his seat. 

“What the hell is going on?” 

George dragged himself, half unwillingly, to the kitchen table and sat down. The cool marble countertop did little to reduce the growing heat rising in his chest. This was far worse than a normal hot spell. He whipped out his phone, opening his texts and drafting a message to Dream, in hopes he wouldn’t have already conked out. He checks the Florida clock saved in his Widgets. “Damn it,” he sighs, eyes glazing over the bright lettering. “3:26 AM.” While Dream insisted upon George contacting him if anything was wrong, he didn’t want to disturb his best friend’s much-needed sleep. That guy was going to pass out from exhaustion one day or another, and George really didn’t want to add to his worries. 

He clambered into bed, feeling the cool rush of fresh sheets and cool pillows come up to greet his aching, overheating frame, and let the tides of sleep take him.

\---

George turned and felt the sheets below him turn to soft, whisking tails. He smelled fresh, ocean breeze - nothing like the Brighton coast, however. He eventually gave in to the coolness he longed for and opened his eyes. “Oh,” he gasped softly, finding himself in a vibrant meadow. Rolling to a crouch, George noted his outfit was… definitely different from what he went to bed in. Clad in what he assumed was a blue sweater, embroidered with the iconic 404 message across the front, he knew instantly that this was yet another dream within the virtual world he and his friends had created together. A mind palace of sorts. 

He pulled down the goggles perched delicately atop his head and blinked as the world around him burst into colour. Since he had gotten the colourblind glasses, his character’s shades had transformed, somehow, from the joke they were intended to be, to the glasses still sitting on his nightstand. 

Blinking rapidly to adjust to the vibrancy now in front of him, he marveled at how beautiful the field was, in all its brilliant glory. Blue orchids, purple alliums, red and orange tulips, and a multitude of other flowers and shades and spectacles he could not name. The sky above him was cloudy but warm, a glowing sunset falling behind the distant mountains. 

A rustle behind George caught his attention, tearing him away from the sunflower he cradled in wonder. He turned, and his face lit up with delight. “Dream,” his smile broadened, and he ran to his best friend. His porcelain mask was pulled over his face, as always, and the painted black and white smile reflected his enthusiasm. George couldn’t quite distinguish the reason for his giddiness. Dream flew at him, scooping up his companion and holding him like a bride, neither noticing that in doing so George’s glasses were knocked off. They rolled down the hillside, laughter and happiness surrounding them in a flurry of petals. George picked up his glasses, finding them nearly hidden within the grasses, and eagerly put them on to marvel at how green Dream’s character was. 

He whipped around, laughter growing in intensity, and hardly noticed his best friend leaning down slightly until he was less than half a foot away from George’s face. Dream cupped his chin gently, tilting his face toward his own. George felt a rush of heat creep up his neck, and leaned in. He lifted the light ceramic mask off of Dream’s face, leaning his mouth in. Their lips connected, a blur of sparks emitting from George’s chest. He savoured every last touch, every breathy nip at his jawline, slowly making their way down his collarbone. He saw the hungry gleam in the viridian eyes of his best friend, the fiery passion they both were entwined in, and kissed him with so much force and ache that they bowled over into the grassy midst.

A taste of thick, rustic bile rose in his throat. He stumbled, throwing himself off of what he deemed was his only respite from the chokingly sweet, syrupy feeling in his lungs, and coughed up his blood. Over and over, heaving gasps along the way, George coughed and hacked until his lungs couldn’t take in any more oxygen. He crumpled into the bed of flowers, Dream and the meadow dissolving. 

He bolted upright, chest heaving. George sat there, heart pounding, as he tried to recall the dream he had. “Dream,” he murmured. Fleeting feelings of passion, longing, and shame filled the empty hole that his dream had briefly inhabited before it turned into a nightmare. The bittersweet images, already fading, leaving a sickly taste on his tongue. Honey.

**Author's Note:**

> i’ve lost my sanity and i’m spiraling into dnf hell  
> I found out on Dream’s wiki that his favourite flower is a rose and that sent me off the writing diving board
> 
> This one goes out to @yoitssuda on insta, you're the best dude I love you  
> Shoutout to @endi3zzz on insta, you reminded me that Hanahaki AUs existed (ps I didn't steal the title from that other Wattpad writer, I thought of this a couple weeks ago but didn't realize they used Honeyed Roses lmao)
> 
> OH YEA ps I'll try to update this at least twice a week !! it might change to once a week depending, I also have school still ^^"
> 
> If you like this, my instagram is @sychiitea and my twitter is @sychiikoi, DMs and requests always open !!


End file.
